A Visit
by WrittenByMeow
Summary: Neville visits his parents. One shot.


The walk to the Janus Thickney Ward was as familiar as an old pair of shoes. He had been coming since he was a child.

Coming here had made him anxious when he'd been a tyke. Some of the residents, including his parents, could be unpredictable. Then, when understood it better, visiting filled with both sadness and a deep feeling of loss.

There was also a bit of anger there – anger at the people who had done this. Gran believed it was important that he knew the whole truth growing up. To mince details would be a disgrace on his parents' sacrifice. He loathed the entire Lestrange House, Bellatrix most of all. Growing up, he hated her more than Professor Snape scared him and, at age thirteen, that was a pretty profound statement.

Neville was a man now. Typically he went unaccompanied to visit these days. The sense of duty she had tried so hard to instill upon him had taken root. He knew she visited on her own, and they always shared Yule and Lammas and his parents' birthdays there. He once admitted to Ron that he rather enjoyed the alone time he got with his Mum and Dad this way.

Every Monday afternoon, he arrived like clockwork. He liked to think that the routine helped his parents. It might have been him seeing what he wanted to, but he thought there might be a glint of expectancy in his father's eyes; that Frank Longbottom knew, on some level, that he was waiting for something.

"Hi, Dad," Neville greeted him genially.

His father's eyes slid away from where they had been trained on the doorway. Neville took that as his welcome to enter.

Neville pulled his usual chair up to his mother's bedside. From his pocket he withdrew a bag of chewing gum. He set it on her nightstand. Gently, he took one of her hands from her lap and enveloped it between his own.

"Hi, Mum."

His mother didn't react to the touch or even look at him. She did give a sort of pleased hum. It was lovely to hear.

Neville launched into his recount of the past week. He mentioned a few of his favorite students, and one that really tested his patience. Harry and Ginny had their baby; little James Potter II was as healthy as a unicorn and already sporting a few ginger hairs. He told her about McGonagall's offer; how he was honored beyond belief for the position as Head of Gryffindor and how he was a little intimidated to accept, and asked her what she thought he should do. Her answers weren't the most conventional, nor did they apply to him, but he treasured each one.

He went to chat with his dad a bit, telling him about his new girlfriend. It was a little less lively than the one he had with his mother, but Neville didn't mind. While they (Neville) talked, he guided his father around the room to do their weekly check on their plants.

Minding the plants was Neville's favorite part. That would seem fairly obvious, since he loved plants in general – he did teach Herbology after all – but it wasn't about that.

Once, his father tore off a handful of leaves and put them in his mother's bed. The working hypothesis was that he had been trying to give them to her. Kingsley Shacklebolt, who had been friends with his father in school, recalled a plethora of bouquets Frank had given Alice. From then on, their room was the most colorful in the ward.

When it was time for him to return to Hogwarts, he said his goodbyes. His mother moved to block the door. Neville tried to squeeze past but she stepped in his path.

His eyebrows rose. "What is it?" He asked. He wondered if what she was doing was intentional. If so, what in Merlin's name was she up to?

His mother unwrapped one of the candies he'd brought and put it in her mouth. She held the wrapper out to him.

Laughing softly to himself, Neville pocketed the wrapper. He bent down to kiss her temple. "Thanks, Mum."

She hummed distractedly, staring past his arm. When he went to go by, she didn't move out of the way, but she didn't try to stop him either.

Neville headed for the Floo. As he waited in the queue, he found his hand straying to his pocket. The cellophane crinkled. Thinking of the boxes-worth that he had at home, he couldn't help but smile.


End file.
